The Great Oak Door
by HermioneSpencer
Summary: In which Hermione Granger comes to understand (as much as anyone can) about love.


This is a story about Hermione Granger. But it is not just _any_ story about Hermione Granger. It is _the_ story of Hermione Granger. This story is about the one thing Hermione Granger would never understand. And that one thing that Hermione Granger would never understand was Ronald Bilius Weasley. But that is only scraping the surface, and to say it was _only_ Ronald she did not understand would not be giving you the whole truth. Ron was polish on the intricate Oak Door that led into another world. That other world was what Hermione _really_ didn't understand. And on that intricate Oak Door, there is a place for everyone. Every conscious living being adds a separate design to that great Oak Door, and together, they make something that _nobody_ understands. That other world was love. The door… well, the door signifies the whole of civilisation. It is vast, beyond reckoning. It would be impossible to measure, because it continues to grow, as each new person is born. The bottom of the door is where the people from many years ago have their decorations, and the higher you go, the more recent in time you see. On the Door, there is every kind of love. There is pure love, like a mother's love, but there are also the darker kinds of love. The love that lies in the recesses of everyone's mind. Desires and longings that are almost animal in their nature. Obsessions. Compulsions. Love that everyone is capable of, but not all find. Some would say that that kind of love is dirty and unclean. But that is only some. For this kind of love, it is only natural. Nobody can help it. But Hermione didn't know that. She didn't know any of it. She knew nothing of the Great Oak Door. _You_ do now; but Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, did not know what love was. Oh yes, she felt love, but she didn't know that that was what she was feeling, for nobody had ever explained love to her. She knew of it, of course, but not what it made people feel. But let us move on to more important matters…

Hermione Granger had fallen asleep on the sofa in the tent fully dressed, having cried herself to sleep. Harry had attempted to comfort her, but she had merely ignored him and cried even more, so Harry had left her alone. He knew better than to annoy Hermione. Harry had gone to bed soon after that, having made two mugs of tea, left one on the table beside the sofa for Hermione and taken his to bed, to drink whilst trying to figure out all possible meanings of "I open at the close". But at this moment in the story, both Harry and Hermione had fallen asleep. It was silent throughout the whole tent. To you and me, it would have been eerily quiet, and unnaturally so, due to the contrast of the silence and Hermione's anguished sobs. We would have noticed nothing more. To Harry, the silence would have been a welcomed friend, for he spent quite a lot of time in companionable silence. On a normal day. To Hermione, the silence would not be noticed, because she would have been re-reading "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" had she been awake, to figure out why she had been given it by Professor Dumbledore. On a normal day.

But the silence meant something else completely at this moment in time.

The silence highlighted the absence of Ronald Weasley. And that affected them in different ways. Harry felt angry. He felt disappointed and let down. He had trusted Ron, but Ron had abandoned him when Harry needed him most. Hermione felt empty. She felt like she had been cut up into little pieces. Whilst Harry had been her glue, Ron had been what Harry had been sticking together. And now that there was nothing to attach to, Hermione felt as if the was no point in continuing anymore, because she had no purpose. But deep inside, she knew that was silly. She knew she had to continue. She knew that the only way Ron would come back was if she kept strong for him. If she continued helping Harry then she would stop thinking about Ron. But her plan had not worked - for a few weeks now, all she could think about was Ron. How much she wanted him there with her. She felt terribly lonely, even with Harry there, but he was trying to act as if nothing had happened, and that just made it worse. At times, Hermione thought she could hear Ron calling out her name, and her head would turn in the direction of where the sound had come from, but Ron was never there. And every time that happened, she broke down into fresh tears. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel this way? Why did any mention of Ron set butterflies going in her stomach? Why did she want to feel his strong arms around her? The answer, is because she loved him. But she didn't know that. Only we do. All she knew was that the longer Ron's absence became, the more she wanted him. All of him. Even his moods (and we all know that his moods were many and close together). But she also felt so angry with him that this only made her believe she did not love him. In fact, she was convinced (or rather, had convinced herself) that there was no such thing. But this you probably already know. Let us move on to what happened next in the story...

Hermione woke up. She had heard him again. She had heard him calling out her name, full of fear and pain. "Hermione!" he cried out, but Hermione knew better than to answer by now. There was no point. But she knew that there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Sleep would not come to her. But she also did not want to go back to sleep because she had just had a terrible dream. During the dream, Hermione had not thought it was terrible, however, because she had been with Ron. The reason it was terrible after she had woken up, was because she knew that he was not here. She stood up, stretching her cramped muscles. Only then did she notice the cup of stone cold tea that sat on the bedside table. She smiled a small smile to herself, but it died quickly. Just then, the entrance flap of the tent rippled, and then blew open fully. A golden light was just in view some distance away, and it floated just above the ground. Not knowing what else to do and throwing all caution to the wind, she walked out of the tent and towards the golden figure to find out what it was.

But as she walked toward it, across the field of grass, it didn't seem to get any nearer or bigger. It didn't take Hermione long to realise that it was just very big, and very far away. Still, however, she continued walking, curiosity getting the better of her. Finally, she was standing in front of the light, but it was not a light. But she did not know that. Only you and I know that. What she was actually standing in front of was a portal. Not knowing what it was though, Hermione reached out to touch it. To you and me, it would appear as if she had just disappeared, but to Hermione, she was being pulled back and forth in all directions. Not understanding, Hermione grew more and more scared, until finally the pulling stopped. She had fallen flat on her stomach, but she got to her feet and steadied herself. It was cold. She hugged her arms around herself to keep herself warm, but it was not enough. She looked around. She recognised where she was immediately.

She was on the Hogwarts Express.

Suddenly a voice spoke from behind her, making her jump.

"Well this is an interesting place to choose, Hermione. Do you have any idea why you chose this particular compartment?"

Hermione turned and caught her breath. It was her mother, and she looked sad and pained. Little was Hermione to know that this pain was because of her.

"M-Mum? How do you know me? I wiped all traces of me from your mind…"

"And rightly so. You were doing it for the best, and your father and I understand that. You want to know how I know about my own daughter. Come now, darling. Have you never heard of love?"

Hermione snorted ungracefully and slumped down onto the compartment seat.

"You may laugh, but am I not living proof that there is magic stronger than the one you learn at Hogwarts? And this is one that even Muggles get to experience."

"Go on. If there is such a thing as love, define what love is."

"My dear, one cannot define love. But I suppose, if you want it in terms that you may be able to understand, I shall try my best… Love, is an ethereal conception. It's evasive. Love is the willingness to do anything for someone, even at a disadvantage to yourself-"

Hermione interrupted, "If that is the case, how does love differ from duty or loyalty to a leader?"

Her mother sighed slowly, pain etched across her face. She thought for a long moment, and then said, "It is combined with physical attraction, apart from parents' and families' love… No, combined with extreme fondness."

"And when you say fondness, what do you mean by that?" she asked, knowing she was winning.

Her mother started, "It is… No… This is the nature of love, my child! To attempt to describe it will drive a woman mad! You have read Shakespeare! Romeo and Juliet! Love is what keeps the poets writing endlessly! If one defined it perfectly, then all the others would lay down their quills, but it cannot be done. But only a fool claims there is no such thing as love. And you are no fool, my dear. You are the brightest Witch of your age! When you see two young ones staring dewy eyed at each other, there you can see love. You can feel it. It is so thick that you could spread it on your bread. When you see a mother with her child, you see love. You can sense it. When you feel it coursing through your veins, you can tell it is there. Maybe you may not know exactly _what_ it is you feel at that time, you can feel _something_ there. Even if you cannot put it into words, love is still there."

Hermione stared at her mum, speechless. Then she remembered all the dreams she had had in the past year.

"I have lustful dreams, mum. Is that love?" she asked, turning redder every second. Her mother merely smiled, with a look of relief all over her face.

"Yes my dear. Humans are animals, you know that, and in every animal is the instinct to keep its own race going. It is only natural that you should have lustful dreams. And there is no need for me to guess who these dreams are of…?" Her mother smiled knowingly.

"Mum, please, that is just embarrassing!" Hermione said, blushing furiously, looking away in a vain attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"That is all I am going to say. I just had to get across to you that you should stop crying and continue on. Like you already are doing, my brave girl. Keep going. Ron will come back. We both know it. Keep strong, my dear."

A thought struck Hermione. "How did I even get here?" she asked.

"Oh, I made friends with Dumbledore in your first year. Even dead, he has some influence over some powerful wizards. I'll let you figure that one out yourself."

She smirked at the look of annoyance on her daughters face. She leaned forward and kissed her daughter's forehead, and then hugged her. She said, "Do you know how I know for _sure_ that love exists?" she asked Hermione.

"No, tell me" Hermione replied, curiosity taking over.

"I gave birth to you." And with that, she said "I love you" and walked out of the compartment and away.

Hermione sat there for a few more minutes, and then it hit her. This was the compartment in which she had asked two boys, a ginger one and a jet black haired one if they had seen a toad. This was the compartment in which she had first ever set eyes upon the boy she loved. She recognised the patch of carpet that had been lifted up next to the window. Not that she had known that she would love him at that time, of course. Even though she had figured out what was wrong with her, she still didn't feel any better. She decided that that must be what love did to you. She said the word aloud, tasting the word, and feeling it.

"Love. I love Ronald Weasley," and she giggled, quite unlike herself. It felt good in her mouth, and the taste was foreign but sweet. She got up and tried to think of a way to get back to the tent. But as soon as she thought of it, she was already in the tent. Feeling a rare sense of happiness, she turned on the radio and hummed along to the songs she knew. She was shocked to find that it was already six o'clock in the morning. Harry awoke to a deliciously prepared breakfast of fried mushrooms and omelettes with a variation of herbs that Harry had no idea how this much-changed Hermione had come across. She was so much happier – not ecstatic by any means – but she didn't cry every few seconds and she laughed at the jokes Harry made and smiled much more.

Here is the point in which we must skip past unimportant details like Godric's Hollow, and move on to when Ron saves Harry's life and accompanies him back to the tent. At this specific moment, we shall focus on when Hermione realises who Harry has actually brought home with him.

Her heart stopped. Her breath caught. She didn't know what to do. She had missed him so much. During that time, she had learned that she loved him, but at the same time, there was still the hate she had first felt when he had started doing strange things to her body without realising it. She loved his eyes. For so long she had been in love with him, but for weeks on end he had hurt her so badly. And he didn't even know it. He couldn't see it in her either. All he could see was an impassive Hermione with no emotion on her face. It worried him, to see her so. He had hoped, after weeks and weeks of trying to find them that she might look at least a little bit pleased to see him. He frowned with worry.

Hermione saw the frown, but was not to know that the frown was due to worry. She only saw the frown, which made her think he had something to hide. Then something inside her snapped. She wanted to hurt him, like he had hurt her. She hit him, calling him an ass, and then stopped. She stood there, not really listening to his explanation at all, merely relieved to see him. But she wasn't going to let him know that. But when Ron told them both about the light from the Deluminator going straight into his heart, it was too much for her. She held back tears for just long enough, and then hurried to her bed, letting her tears flow freely.

Now, dear reader, we come to a strange predicament. Ron, during his stay at Shell Cottage, had finally realised that he loved her. But that is a story for another day. The important thing is that Ron truly believed that Hermione thought him to be an ass, and so believed that she did not love him. And Hermione knew that she loved Ron, but had no idea that _he_ was in love with _her_ as well.

And now, we shall skip past uninteresting details once more, like the meeting with Xenophilius Lovegood, the Break-In of Gringott's Bank, and even the first few minutes of the first half of the Battle of Hogwarts. At this moment in time, we are situated in the Room of Requirement, and Ron is just about to speak…

"Hang on a moment!" said Ron sharply. "We've forgotten someone!"  
"Who?" asked Hermione.  
"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?"  
"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" asked Harry.  
"No," said Ron seriously, "I mean we should tell them to get out. We don't want any more Dobbys, do we? We can't order them to die for us -"

This was too much for Hermione. She threw the basilisk fangs away and flung her arms around Ron's neck, kissing him.

This was the moment she had been waiting for, and she knew in her heart she had been waiting for it since the day she was rescued by Harry and Ron in the girls' bathroom from the troll. She didn't care whether Ron loved her back or not – she just _had_ to let him know that she loved him. She was delighted to find that Ron was responding with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.

She only vaguely heard Harry's voice saying weakly, "Is this the moment?"

But she ignored him. In fact, she kissed Ron harder, and he kissed her back, his strong arms making her feel safe and secure. She only stopped when Harry belted out, "OI! There's a war going on here!" but she kept her arm around Ron, liking the warmth of his body. She giggled slightly when Ron said "I know, mate, so it's now or never, isn't it?"

She felt like flying. She had kissed Ron, and now she knew that Ron loved her! She had never kissed anyone before, apart from her family, and so being kissed back by someone she had loved her whole school life was quite overwhelming. She felt ecstatic. Bubbly. She could do anything. Bellatrix could torture her again, but she'd know that Ron loved her, so she would be fine. It would hurt, yes, but Ron would be her anaesthetic, and he would be so strong that it would dull most of the pain to a throbbing.

So now, we come to the end of this story. But we all know that isn't the end of the _whole_ story – just this one. But now we have come to the end, we can see that Hermione, in the end, _did_ believe in love, she just didn't understand it. But as we have already decided, _no one_ can _fully_ understand love and what it is. And many people make the mistake of thinking that because they don't understand what love is, it can't exist. And that is what Hermione almost did, yet there was one famous wizard who _did_ do just that. His name was Voldemort. But that is a story for another day.

* * *

A/N: In hindsight, I realise that this is very similar to Harry and Dumbledore's conversation in King's Cross. Oh well. I would like to thank Chamelaucium for proof-reading and fine tuning. Everyone should go check Chamelaucium out - amazing writer! Also, thanks to Patrick Rothfuss for writing The Wise Man's Fear (#2 Kingkiller Chronicles) which gave me the inspiration for the story. Not forgetting J. , who also inspired the story (obviously) and Shakespeare for writing Romeo and Juliet (which also gave me inspiration). Please note, I do not own anything that belongs to J. , but these words are my own (apart from the extract of The Deathly Hallows in the Room of Requirement, and one line from The Wise Man's Fear) Please rate and review, because I really love hearing what you lovely people have to say. Thanks for reading, because if you've got this far, it can't have been _too_ boring!


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